


Diner Tales

by dovahgriin



Series: Mystic [2]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Assault, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bonding, Cannibalism-By-Proxy, Couch Sex, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Diners, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Eddie is a dumbass but we love him anyways, F/F, Female Protagonist, First Meetings, Graphic descriptions of gore, Grief/Mourning, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Magic Cock, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mystic grows a dick for you, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Venom (Movie 2018), Present Tense, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sex, Symbiote Sex (Marvel), Symbiote!Reader, Tentacles, Terato, Teratophilia, monster girlfriend, science cock?, weighted blankets are the only good thing on this planet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:52:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovahgriin/pseuds/dovahgriin
Summary: Drabbles of varying length following the Reader (you) and their symbiote (Mystic).[Tags will update as new chapters are published. Rating is guaranteed to increase.]





	1. The Diner ( 1 / ? )

**Author's Note:**

> Not all chapters are in chronological order — but if they’re marked with ( 1 / 2 ), ( 1 / 3 ), etc, then there are or will be more parts!

“So… how did you and your, um, _friend,_ meet?” Eddie’s fingers drum on his coffee cup as he watches you worry the paper napkin into bits. You glance around the diner — it’s _just_ loud enough that nobody outside of the booth you’re sharing will hear.

**safe, safe, do not worry.**

_Why do I not believe you?_

**because you are a worrywart.**

_… That is true._

“It happened on New Year’s Eve, funny enough,” you say quietly. “There was a van that crashed in the field behind my house and I went to check it out. Not my brightest moment, I’ll admit.”

**but still a good one. now we have us.**

You ignore Mystic’s hissing in your head as you continue. “The driver was still alive, he was wearing a Life Foundation uniform, and he told me to run. I asked him if there was anyone else in the car, was anyone else hurt, and then—”

**“we found us.”**

Mystic wraps around your fingers in a caress that has you pressing your lips together in irritation. “Doll, we’ve _talked_ about this. Let _me_ do the talking in public.”

**“but you are bungling it.”**

“Excuse you, I am not.” You raise your eyebrows at the tendril-head that’s risen over your shoulder and Mystic bares her teeth at you in a facsimile of a smile. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Eddie, jerking your head at Mystic. “See what I have to deal with? She’s a menace.”

Eddie looks like he is trying not to laugh. “Sorry, sorry, go on.”

“Uh-huh. Anyways, as I was saying, I asked if anyone else was hurt and then this _thing_ started crawling up my leg. I screamed, the driver screamed, and then she was inside me and I blacked out. When I woke up, the driver was gone—”

**liar, liar, pants on fire.**

_Shut up._

**“we ate him. his fear was delicious”**

_Come_ on _, we’re supposed to be a_ sympathetic _case, dumbass._

 **look at him,** **_he_ ** **doesn’t think you did it.**

_Still!_

“... Yes, thank you for that imagery.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “The driver was gone and I was freaking out, so I went back home. Holed up, tried to pretend that it never happened.

“I went through, like, a month’s worth of potatoes in the next three days and then this asshole showed up over my shoulder on the fourth day and then the rest is history, as the kids say.” Sighing fondly, you stroke a finger over where Mystic is still wrapped around your hands. “I’ve gotten _really_ good at making hash browns.”


	2. Meet 'n Greet ( 1 / 2 )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [how you meet Mystic, 1/2]

The first thing that you should know about yourself is that you are, at your very core, a good person. It’s great thing, really. If a little old lady needs help across a busy street (not that you have as many in the borough where you live as they do in San Francisco), you’re usually the first to volunteer your arm. You can’t stand injustice, and you support organizations that provide help to minorities that need the assistance. You tip your waiters well and make polite conversation with retail workers. You don’t break laws and always pull to the side of the road when an ambulance comes down the road.

So, yeah, you’re a generally decent human being.

It is only logical that when you hear the unmistakable sound of a truck flipping and metal screaming across the blacktop you leave your home to investigate. You want to make sure that the driver is okay. After all, it _is_ New Years. Driving while drunk on this night of all nights is probably not a great start of the year for whoever is behind the wheel.

_Thank Christ that this phone doubles as a flashlight._

Cockleburs stick to the legs of your pajama pants as you pick your way across the field. You’ll have a hell of a time picking them all off of yourself later on. It’s chilly tonight, and you wish that you’d thought to wear a sweater.

You can hear your neighbors whooping in the distance as they watch the parades on their TVs. Shivering, you tap the screen of your phone, revealing that is it 11:51 PM.

 _Almost a new year,_ you think wistfully. _And what a way to start it._

Tendrils of fog curl around your bare ankles. _Should’ve worn socks. Might get a tick, or something._ You pick up your pace — maybe, just maybe, you can get to the the wrecked car and check on the driver and call someone for help and still be able to see the ball drop at midnight.

You reach the overturned vehicle shortly after, only to find that it’s not a commercial car at all, but a nondescript white van with the Life Foundation logo emblazoned on the side. Eyes narrowed, you circle the van warily, taking in the crumpled hood and the smoke floating out of the ruined engine. The back doors of the vehicle hand open at odd angles, revealing… shelves? Shattered glass crunches beneath your feet. It looks like a portable laboratory on the inside of the van.

 _What the hell is going on?_ You go back to the driver’s side window, clearing away the broken window as best as you can without cutting yourself on the glass. You can see that the man’s legs are crushed. His breathing is uneven — maybe he’s got some broken ribs?

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” You snap your fingers by the man’s ear repeatedly, trying to get his attention. The blood dripping down the side of his head can’t be a good sign, but you vaguely remember reading somewhere that you shouldn’t move an injured person from a totaled car (or was it that you shouldn’t move someone who’s wiped out on a motorcycle?). He groans, and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“G-get out of here,” he chokes, sending blood dribbling down his chin. “Run—”

The grass beside you rustles, and the sound sends shivers down your spine. “Wha—?”

Something brushes against your ankle and you _shriek._ You fumble your phone and it falls out of your hands, sending shadows dancing as it bounces off of your foot and once more once it hits the ground. In between the shadows you can see — you can _feel_ — something darker than the night on your flesh. It’s warmer than the evening air, and you whine as you sense it sinking into your clammy skin.

It feels _wrong_.

The man in the car is screaming, you’re screaming, everything is too loud, too much too fast and you’re pretty sure you are going to have a heart attack. You can feel whatever the thing is slide along your veins, along muscles and bones and blood, melding together with you like it was meant to be. The majority of the thing comes to rest in your chest and neck, and you scratch at your skin like you can pull it out with only your blunted nails. “Get out get out g _et out!”_

**ours.**

The voice in your head sounds like water on burning coals, hissing and spitting and crackling in your ears. _What the fuck. What the fuck?!_

You look at your trembling hands, watching in horror as your veins turn purple-black in the dappled moonlight. “Oh god, oh god, o _h god._ ” You turn to face the driver; he’s watching you like you’re a dangerous animal, a predator.

**he is prey.**

“Help me,” you beg.

The man leans away from you, revulsion etched into the lines of his face, “Stay away!”

“ _Help me._ ” Your voice roughens and goes gravelly, and ooze comes _out_ of your pores, wrapping around you and blocking your line of sight completely. You open your mouth in a silent scream as you feel yourself lose complete control over your own body.

 **ours.** **_our_ ** **body.**

It's all in your head now, and you can feel the creature — what else could it be _but_ some sentient being? — twist your — _their_ — 

_**— our —** _

— fingers, clenching and unclenching them in an attempt to relax them. You watch in awe — and more than a little terror — as your hand grips the edge of the door's window and _rips_ it from the hinges. The metal crumples like paper in your hand. The van rocks precariously. The air is filled with the eye-stinging scent of ammonia. _He pissed himself, then_. 

**"pathetic,"** a voice that is both yours and not says, and a hand shoots out and wraps around the man's neck. He sobs, pushing at your arm with his right arm — his left dangles by his side uselessly. **"you are _weak_."**

"Please, no," he begs. Fat, salty tears drip down his face. Your mouth opens and a tongue unlike any other you've seen slithers out from behind your teeth, long and lithe like a snake. It is simultaneously fascinating and horrific; you watch it slide over the side of his face, and you taste _saltsweat_ **_FEAR_ ** on his skin. A shiver ripples down your spine again, but this time it is one of _hunger_ , not fear. _You_ are _hungry_.

 **_we_ ** **hunger.** **_we_ ** **must feed.**

_Oh my god oh my god oh my god this can't be real._

**it is** **_very_ ** **real.** **_we_ ** **are very real.**

_What are you?_

**we are mystic.**

Your mouth opens of its own accord — of _Mystic's_ accord — and the driver begins to shriek again, only to have all sound cut off as your teeth sink into his neck. You gag internally.

Blood — _hot fresh_ ** _delicious_** — flows down your throat, and it feels like something inside of your body slides into place. Mystic devours the rest of the man, taking particular pleasure in breaking the man’s — the _corpse’s_ — bones in half and sucking the marrow out before popping the bone into your shared mouth with a crunch.

 _Fucking_ gross _, dude. Can’t you just, like, I don’t know, eat the bone without fuckin’ breaking them?_

 **“it doesn’t taste as good,”** Mystic hums, licking chunky storm-red viscera from your clawed fingers.

_That’s disgusting._

**“you** **_liked_ ** **it. i felt us. you** **_liked_ ** **seeing his blood all over your hands.”**

 _That doesn’t make it_ ** _right_** _! Oh god, I’m going to hurl._ You glance at the side of the van, then back at it again. Though warped, you can see your reflection in it — six white eyes blink at you from the metal. Mystic bares its — _their? his? her?_ — teeth at you in a mocking smile. _Holy shit._ _Am I_ — _are_ we _stuck like this? I have a_ job _, I can’t go to work like this!_

 **“we are not always like this,”** Mystic says, and you watch as the creature melts back into your skin, leaving you, the _real_ you, standing alone in the field.

**we can be like this, too.**

“Okay, okay, this is fucking _weird_ ,” you mumble, gripping your hair with shaky hands. You can feel Mystic curl around the column of your spine. “I — _we_ — just _ate_ a _person_. Jesus Christ, if I tell someone, they’ll have me arrested or put on death row.”

Mystic _howls_ in your head as you imagine how the lethal injection needle would feel like sliding underneath your skin. 

_**no.** _ **we will not allow it.**

"Like _hell_ you won't allow it," you cry indignantly, throwing your hands in the air. "We _ate_ a person. A living, breathing _person_ with a family, probably, and now he's — gah!" You stop speaking as Mystic materializes as a tendril grown from your shoulder and _bites_ the tender meat of your neck. "Stop that!"

**"no, _you_ stop. you are our host. we are bonded. we will keep you alive."**

"For fuck's sake, _bonded_? What does that even _mean_?"

 **"i am yours, and you are _mine_ ,"** Mystic snarls. The words send a thrill through your nervous system, little sparks of lightning that set your endorphin levels rising. **"they can try to take us apart, but i will kill them first."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a kudos and a comment! I'm running on empty when it comes to prompts, so _**PLEASE**_ give me some ideas!


	3. Mornings

Of all the things that you enjoy the most, waking up rested and  _ early _ is by far your favorite. There’s just something  _ special  _ about sitting out on your doorstep with a mug of tea warming your hands as you watch the sun rising above the treeline. Most of your neighbors are still asleep on days like this, leaving the street quiet and deserted. It’s the best part of your day, honestly.

This time, however, is different. You’re not alone, and you’re drinking hot chocolate. Mystic rises from your shoulder on a slender tendril, blinking as the sun sends rays of red-and-gold dancing across your face. It’s nice, you find, to not be entirely alone any longer.

The cocoa leaves a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by far the most drabble-y thing I've written so far. **_GIVE ME PROMPTS, PLEASE D:_**


	4. Meet ‘n Greet ( 2 / 2 )

You get home by the skin of your teeth, nerves alight with unspent energy. Your stomach is growling, loud enough to easily hear. “Come  _ on _ , we just ate.”

**“the hunger never fades,”** Mystic says from her place on your shoulder (pronoun-confusion was something you cleared up immediately upon leaving the field — after dragging the totaled van to the local lake, of course — and apparently, Mystic is a  _ she _ ). You sigh.

“I’ve been meaning to run to the grocery store, anyways. May as well raid the fridge, I guess.” You shut the door to your home and lock it for good measure.  _ Don’t want any unwanted visitors seeing me like this, after all. _

**“like what?”**

“... like I’ve been possessed by a fuckin’ parasite, is what.”

**“i am** **_not_ ** **a parasite. take it back.”**

“If you’re not a parasite, what are you?” You rummage through your fridge, finding some stale chocolate cake from a retirement party for a coworker a week and a half ago. A tentative sniff verifies that  _ yes _ , it is safe(ish) to eat and won’t kill you immediately.

**“i am klyntar. we come from somewhere beyond your solar system.”**

“So, I’ve been possessed by an alien from outer space. This sounds like a goddamn comic book.” You grab a relatively clean fork and take a large bite of cake. It’s a bit stale, but still tasty.

Mystic  _ moans _ in your ear, and you shudder.  **“what** **_is_ ** **this?”**

“Uh. It’s chocolate cake?” Your mouth is full, but Mystic has no trouble understanding you. She’s in your head, in  _ you _ , after all.

**“more, more, more!”**

“What’s the magic word?” You yelp when Mystic sinks her teeth into your shoulder. “Ouch! Okay, I get it, here; take the damn plate.”

Mystic sends tendrils out and seizes the plate from you, drool dribbling from her outstretched tongue as she begins to devour the cake.

**this is delightful.**

_ You’re nasty. _

**no, you.**

_ Who the  _ fuck _ taught you how to meme? _

**“you forget that i am you. i have seen inside our mind.”**

“... this whole situation is fucking odd. Forgive me if shit slips my mind.” 

**“forgiveness is for the weak.”**

“That’s bullshit. Forgiving someone who deserves it is the right thing to do.”

**“let me rephrase: forgiveness is seen as a weakness among my kind.”**

“No offense, but your people kind of sound like douchebags.”

**“oh, they are. the weak die and the strong survive.”**

“And are you? Strong, I mean.”

**“i was one of the weaker ones, physically. what i lack in strength i make up for in cunning.”**

A giggle escapes you.  _ Nasty, tricksy Hobbitses. _

Mystic blinks and looks at you with narrowed eyes. The effect is quite strange, since she has six of them.  **“what is a hobbitses?”**

“Not Hobbitses, Hobbits. It’s, um… shit, you haven’t seen Lord of the Rings, have you?” 

**“no. what is it?”**

“It’s a really good film series that’s based on some really,  _ really _ good books.” You run a hand through your hair, remembering how it felt to see the trilogy for the first time. Mystic seeps back under your skin and you can feel her attention honing in on your memories. It feels… odd, to say the least. 

You shiver as you grab a cardboard carton of leftover pad thai and stick it in the microwave. 

**“why are you doing that?”** Mystic is licking her teeth as she watches you punch the buttons on the microwave dial pad. 

“Because it tastes better,” you say, parroting her earlier words to you back at her. “Warm food; one of the many wonders of modern humanity.”


	5. Pulling Your Punches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by bluestrawberryiii - "i wanna uhhhh beat up tony stark. its my one true dream in life, and only you have the power to give it to me"

Disclaimer: You had most certainly _not_ intended to eat the bank robbers. It just… sort of happened. Well, _Mystic_ happened. When one of them pulled a gun on you, she’d _roared_ in your head and your view was obstructed by the haze-purple of Mystic’s biomatter as she rippled into being around you.

You hadn’t intended to rip and break and devour the **_weak little humans who’d dared attack us._ ** Their blood and bile are bitter on your tongue, sharpened by Mystic’s rage.

Of course, what you intend matters very little when you’re suddenly being attacked by a superhero who just so happens to be in town.

_Mystic, retract._

**no.**

_Damn it, I_ recognize _this guy. It’s Iron Man._

**so? he will shoot you as soon as i do.**

_I’m an unarmed civilian. He’s a_ good guy _. He wouldn’t_ —

**i’m not willing to bet your life on that.**

**also, you are not unarmed. you have me.**

_Aw, you care about me!_

**that is irrelevant right now, brat.**

_You’re right, though._

**of course i am.**

While you stand in the middle of a pool of blood silently debating with Mystic, Iron Man crosses his arms. He waits until all six of your eyes refocus before clearing his throat.

“‘Scuse me,” he drawls, “would you mind telling me who you are? It would make it a lot easier when I take you in for murder.”

A deep, gravelly laugh rumbles in your shared chest cavity. **“does it really matter, man of iron? you will try to separate us, experiment on us in your fancy fucking lab. we do not wish to become some science project of yours.”**

“I can’t exactly let you go, either, you know,” the billionaire says. “You _ate_ those men.”

 **“they were going to shoot somebody before long,”** you reply. **“better to eat them before they hurt anyone. better to preemptively strike than get a bullet in the chest.”** You curl a clawed hand against your chest and thump it for good matter.

“And if you won’t come willingly, I’ll have to use force.” To his credit, Tony Stark doesn’t sound like he wanted to do this right now.

**neither do we, but people don’t always get what they want, do they?**

_God, you’re such a bitch sometimes._

**being a bitch keeps you safe and alive**

_… Valid point._

**“do you really think that your guns will hurt us?”** Your voice is low, and your tongue slithers out to taste the air and lick up the gore on your teeth.

“No, but this might,” Iron Man says, raising his left arm. Mystic growls in your throat, a threatening rumble of sound that would have your hair rising if it was directed at you. As it is, Mystic is baring her teeth at Tony Stark when the flames erupt from the miniature barrel on his arm. The flames touch you, and the wail that leaves you has the superhero wincing.

**_WHAT IS THIS?_ **

_Fire. It’s fire._

_Fuck, are you okay?_

**it** **_hurts_** **.**

You get the impression of Mystic whining in the back of your skull; the image of your other half cowering away from the flames has an incandescent _rage_ rising in your chest. Tony Stark, who you now have labeled an _absolute asshole_ , lowers his arm. The flames flicker out. Mystic receded where the flames touched her, and you can see the burnt flesh of your arms.

It makes your mouth water in the worst possible way, because underneath the horror and pain it smells _good_.

“You _fucking_ **_dick_**!” Mystic has almost completely retracted into your body now, leaving most of yourself vulnerable to anything that Stark throws at you. But right now? Right now, you don’t care. You’re _angry_ , you’re in _pain_ , and you launch yourself at the superhero. Greyish-lilac biomatter encases your hands and you latch onto Stark’s front.

“Hey, wha — get _off_ of me!” Iron Man grips you hard by the shoulders. You’re going to bruise come morning, but that doesn’t stop you from clinging to the man and getting your claws underneath the slats of his armor and _ripping_. One of the wires sending power or information to whatever powers the engine keeping him up in the air must be damaged, because the suit suddenly makes a _pop!_ sound and the two of you tumble the very short distance to the floor of the bank. You scream and tear and crumple the metal of his helmet, revealing the startled face of the man behind Stark Industries.

If you weren’t so pissed off, you might have thought him handsome. As it is, your rage has you seeing red, and you’re out for blood.

 _His_ blood, specifically.

You don’t pull your punches, and the sound of his nose snapping is beyond satisfying, edging into more… risqué territory. The scent of blood fills the air, and you breathe in deeply, almost — but not quite — tasting copper and iron on the back of your tongue. You cock your head, looking down at the man with narrowed eyes, alert for — _ah_. You hear the telltale cocking of a gun.

“Get off of him,” a new voice orders. You bare your teeth in a chilling echo of a smile, running one clawed finger down the side of Tony Stark’s face. Tiny droplets of blood surface like uncut rubies against his fair skin. “I won’t ask you again — get off of him.”

You acquiesce with a graceful little leap, stepping back from the wounded man without turning around. Mystic begins to seep back from your pores, and you turn your gaze on Stark as she covers your face entirely.

“We _hate_ **_you_** ,” you hiss at the man, Mystic’s voice merging back into yours as she returns from inside of you. “ **we hate you and we will hurt all that you hold dear if you touch us again.** **_stay away from us_** **.** ”

You take off at a sprint and burst through one of the windows, disappearing into the autumnal fog.


	6. Still Here

You wake up with the sunrise, the same as any other day since the accident. You’re alone, just like every morning since then. There are no tears — there have _been_ no tears — since the morning after you lost your other.

It is… strange, to have to go about your business without even a single snarky comment, without the comforting weight of Mystic curled around your heart. You are unbalanced, shattered in a way that cannot be fixed, drifting in a sea of numbness that threatens to drag you under for daring to remember what it was like to not be well and truly alone.

Eddie visits you nearly every single day he isn’t working. Today is one of those days. He thinks you need to talk to someone.

You tell him — actually, you snarl at him, a scratchy, broken sound that would have made Mystic purr with pride — to mind his own fuckin’ business and slam the door in his face. It rattles the door frame, but nothing cracks. Yet another piece of physical evidence that Mystic is _gone._

You can’t tell if Eddie leaves. Your hearing hasn’t been the same since… well.

The wood of your door is smooth against your forehead ( ~~ _smooth like **her**_~~ ) as you lean against it and _breathe_. You’re numb, and alone, and so, so _angry_. You miss Mystic; you want her curled up inside of you and it feels like she’s just out of reach even though you _know_ in your heart of hearts that she’s really gone.

It’s the loneliness, the emptiness in your chest that breaks you. Your breath catches in your throat and you can’t breathe past the shards in your chest. The sound you make reminds you of a wounded animal, and panic sets in. Your nails dig into your skin. You can feel Eddie knocking on the door.

“G-go _away,_ Eddie,” you whisper between sobs. “Leave me _alone.”_

“You know I can’t do that,” he replies through the door, voice muffled. “Let me help you, please.”

Your hands go to the lock and handle of their own accord and unbolt the door. Eddie slowly pushes it open as you step out of its way, holding your arms around your middle like you can keep the tears in that way.

“Hey, hey, hey,” your friend pulls you into a tight hug, warm and comforting and heavy against your chilled skin. “Hey, shh. Breathe with me, c’mon, in through the mouth and out through the nose, in and out.”

You press your ear flush against Eddie’s chest and listen hard to the beating of his heart. ~~If Mystic were here, you’d also be able to hear Venom’s echoing pulse.~~ The air rushes into Eddie’s lungs, causing his chest to expand. You breathe in. The air expels with a slow _whoosh_ , and Eddie’s chest contracts. You breathe out, imitating his movements.

His hand is heavy on your back. You could almost imagine that it belongs to Mystic. “I _m-miss_ her, Eddie. I miss her so m-much. It’s _k-killing_ me.”

Black tendrils slide from underneath Eddie’s worn leather jacket, sliding down his skin to wrap around your arms and fingers. _Venom._

The other symbiote makes an appearance much like Mystic used to, his form coming into view as a head attached to a supporting stalk on Eddie’s shoulder. You cry harder. _It’s not_ _fair_ , you think bitterly. _We were_ happy _. Why did this happen to us?_

 **“We hate it when you cry,”** Venom rumbles, wiping your tears away with a gentle touch. **“Don’t cry, little one.”**

“I-I can’t _help_ it,” you wail. “I miss her! I feel so _empty_ without her in my head.”

Venom wraps around you further, spreading like a waterfall of warmth over both you and Eddie. Neither of them say much after this, but Eddie continues breathing with you and Venom gives comfort by wrapping you up and hiding your weakness from the world.

Logically, you know that the pain will fade. Logically, you know that it will not hurt quite as badly as it does now. Logically, you know that the mental scars will fade with time.

Emotionally, though, you’re not sure if they ever will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This is NOT CANON. This was just a piece I came up with while avoiding writing smut, as I tend to do.


	7. Jealousy*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter gave me a LOT of trouble, but hey, it’s done! There’s smut (which I haven’t written since I was 16) and the rating has been bumped up to explicit, wooo!  
> If you’re uncomfortable with descriptions of female genitalia and F/F situations, this is not the chapter for you, sorry. I’m not comfortable writing from a male perspective and it’s almost impossible to use gender-neutral terms without overusing them, you feel me?  
> Anyway. I hope you enjoy!

You slam your front door shut, rattling the windows in their frames and lock the door with shaking hands. Your face is burning, embarrassment still flowing through your veins like some sort of unwanted drug. God, you could just scream, and then it occurs to you that you live alone and you can scream as loud as you want, so you do exactly that.

“Mys _tic!_ Get out here, you slimy parasitic asshole, right _now_!” Kicking your shoes off, you begin to pace across the soft rug in your living room, muttering furiously as Mystic slowly comes to the surface of your skin. “Fucking _alien_ , ruining the first goddamn date I’ve had since fucking high school... _argh!”_

To say that you are angry is an understatement — you’re absolutely _livid_ , complete with flushed cheeks and a vein pulsing wildly near your temple. Mystic appears over your shoulder, and you stop pacing, turning your head to glare at your other half. “Back at the restaurant, what the _fuck_ was that?! Why on Earth would you do that?”

The symbiote bares her teeth in a bitter grin. The effect would be quite terrifying if you were anyone else, but you’re _you_ and you’re _fuming._ **“you don’t normally tolerate people who treat wait staff like he did; what gives, lamb? why were you putting up with his shitty behavior? do you need to get laid** ** _that_** **_badly_** **?”** Mystic’s tone is comprised entirely of disgust and you flush in embarrassment as she continues, **“how would you have even brought** ** _us_** **up with that boy, hmm? when would you have told him that he would be getting** ** _two for one price tag_** **? would it have been before or after you fucked? would it have been before or after the betrothal, the bonding, the spawning of offspring?”**

“What? I — that’s beside the point!” You jab a finger in the air, just inches away from the serrated edges of Mystic’s teeth. “What is your problem, huh? You’re acting like… like…”

_Like a jilted lover._

Realization dawns on you as the thought coalesces in your mind. You droop, suddenly tired, as you lean against the arm of your couch and run a hand over your face. “Wait, Mystic, are you… were you… are you _jealous_?”

**… no.**

“Bullshit! And don’t pull the mental-speak with me, either — we are going to have a conversation, _out loud_ , like the _adults_ we are, damn it.”

 **“what do you want me to say, then? that i am jealous of a man who would never ever in a million millenia be able to** **_know_ ** **you,** **_protect_ ** **you or** **_give_ ** **you what you** **_need_ ** **? that you and i are irrevocably bonded in a way no other person on this puny planet are? that no one else would ever be able to truly understand what it is we have together?”** Mystic’s voice is low, scratching like a skipping record and twisting in your ears and burrowing beneath your skin. You shudder. Tendrils of your other brush against the bare flesh of your arms and neck, stroking the tender skin over your pulse point like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Mystic then does something that you’ve never seen her do before. She pulls out of you almost entirely, forming a body of her own outside of yours. She’s thin and _tall_ and you have to tilt your head back to look her in the eyes properly. You can see your face reflected in them. Your eyes are wide, the whites clearly visible in the mirror image.

She leans over you, bringing her face close enough to yours that you can see the individual speckles in her matter change color as the light bounces off of them. Mystic’s breath is hot on your face. **“you are** **_mine.”_ **

You straighten, squaring your shoulders and standing on the tips of your toes as you stare up at your other. “Show me, then.”

Clawed lavender hands wrap around your wrists, pinning them against the wall on either side of your head. Mystic looks at you a long while before she licks a long, slow line up the side of your neck, gathering the sweat sitting at your hairline with a satisfied hum. You shiver at the feel of her tongue against your skin, bumpy and slick and _warm_. It’s… comforting, almost.

_But it’s still kind of gross._

Mystic sucks her tongue back in with a look of consternation twisting her features. **“it’s not gross,** **_you’re_ ** **gross.”**

“I’m your goddamn host, dumbass. If _I’m_ gross, then _you_ are gross.”

 **“hmph.”** Mystic peers at you through her six narrowed eyes, tracking the movement of your tongue as you lick your lower lip. Heat flushes through your chest, a warmth that tingles and pricks and makes you squirm in Mystic’s grasp. **“something you’d like to say, brat?”**

“No, ma’am,” you breathe, heart fluttering against your ribs. She leans forward, rubbing her face in the crook of your neck with a low purr. Your heart rate picks up as her teeth drag over your shoulder and collarbone. It’s like your senses go haywire; the combination of arousal and fear and desire practically _sings_ in your nervous system in a heady cocktail.

 **“good, good, you’re so good for me,”** Mystic croons into your chest, her claws digging into the delicate skin of your wrists just enough for tiny droplets of blood to form. The small bite of pain only serves to enhance the rest of what you feel in the best way possible.Tiny tendrils stretch out from Mystic’s arms, wrapping around the injuries, healing them but leaving the sting. **“such a good, perfect lamb.”**

The symbiote’s praises ring filthy and _hot_ in your ears. You bite your lip and stifle a moan. “Fuck.”

 **“fuck is exactly what we are going to do, ducky.”** You tremble at the promise in Mystic’s voice, energy thrumming beneath your skin. In the back of your head, you can almost hear Mystic’s thoughts. You can definitely _feel_ what she’s feeling; lust, a jealous sort of protectiveness, an overwhelming desire to be everything that you’ll ever need. It only serves to fuel your own arousal.

“Mystic, _please_ ,” your voice sounds thin and breathy in your ears, and your other hums in response.

 **“please, what?”** Mystic’s tongue curls around your throat, pressing gently down on your pulse point. You swallow reflexively, tilting your chin up and baring more of your neck. **“what do you need, brat?”**

“You, you, I need — _please_ ,” your breath catches in your throat, but your thoughts continue singing along that train of thought, _youyouyouneedyouplease._ Mystic _giggles,_ an unexpected and pleased sound. She pulls partially back into you, flowing down your shoulders and back and legs like spilled paint, pulling you in the direction of your ratty old couch.

“Wait!” Mystic stops at the sound of your voice, thrumming with tension. “Wait, if - if we’re doing this on the - the couch—”

**towel, yes.**

Mystic steers you towards the bathroom, where you grab your bath towel. _It needs a wash, anyways,_ you rationalize to yourself. _So what if it gets messy?_

**then i will clean us up.**

Images ranging from innocent to beyond raunchy flash through your mind, most involving Mystic between your legs, Mystic gripping your thighs and holding you down by them, Mystic and her tongue doing _things_ to you. It is more than enough to have you trembling in anticipation.

You hurry back to the couch, spreading the towel out over the majority of the cushions with a flick of your wrists. Shucking your clothes takes no time at all, and you shiver in the cool air. Your palms are sweaty for the umpteenth time tonight. _Gross._

Mystic recreates her own body again, pressing up against your back as she grabs your hands and holds them up in her own.

 **“you are so perfect for me,”** she hums against your hair. You swallow past the anxiety that’s taken up residence in your throat. **“you’re not gross at all, lamb.”**

Mystic continues to rub your palms with her fingers, a purr building in her chest. It is a very odd sensation, in your opinion. _Like having a huge cat about to start kneading my back._

 **“would you like that, ducky? would you like a** ** _massage?”_** Mystic drags her hands up your arms, claws barely touching the surface of your skin. You shiver. She smiles against your hair, all toothy and jagged and _sharp_. **“well, lamb? what do you say?”**

“Y-Yes, _please_ ,” you whine, and then Mystic is pushing on your shoulders and you’re laying face-down on the couch. You can see crumbs from your breakfast biscuit in the crevice between the cushion and the armrest. _Need to vacuum later._

Mystic pushes down on your spine a little harder than is comfortable. **“hsst! no thinking about that right now. just** **_feel_ ** **what we feel.”**

It’s an odd experience, overall.

Through the bond, you can feel your own skin through Mystic’s fingers. You’re _soft_ , softer than you’d realized — **glass-glass-glass-breakable-not-too-much-pressure** — and you wonder how you’ve gone your whole life living without your symbiote. Mystic presses her fingers into a particularly hard knot in your left shoulder and you _moan_. Her movements stutter, and you can feel the pleased emotions pouring off of her.

She repeats the action, pressing down on your shoulder, chasing that sound (or something similar to it), and you moan again, albeit less noisy this time. **“you like that, ducky? does that feel good?”**

The only reply you can muster up is a shaky nod. _Magic fingers,_ you think at her. _You have magic fingers._

 **“well, of course we do. we can do other things with them, too.”** She trails them down your back, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re full of yourself, you kn _ow_ _that_ , right?” Mystic’s fingers split into tendrils as she nears your ass, and the strangeness of the sensation on your skin has your voice breaking mid sentence. Your ears go red.

 **“yes, but at least i admit it.”** If she had eyebrows, she would be raising them at your back. As it is, you can feel the physical weight of her stare like a dumbbell resting on your back.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

**“why do you think i’m looking at you like anything, brat?”**

“Because I can feel your eyes on my back, genius.” You twist yourself so that you are resting on your elbows as you peer up at Mystic through narrowed eyes. She leers at you, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. “I wasn’t _completely_ hopeless before I met you, you know.”

 **“i know, but it is so much** **_fun_ ** **to tease you, ducky.”** Mystic swoops down onto you, grabbing your face in her hands and pulling you in for a bruising kiss. One of her knees comes to a rest between your legs. You squirm in her grasp, blunt teeth scraping against her mouth. It feels _right,_ though, kissing Mystic. It’s like everything is as it should be.

You wish you could take this feeling and bottle it up for when the world isn’t quite right.Mystic purrs into your mouth when your hands find their way to her shoulders and neck, gripping her as hard as you can.

More and more you press against your other, closer and closer and tighter until Mystic finally just lashes the two of you together with slender lengths of biomatter. She runs her hands over you, eventually coming to rest on your hips. You roll up into her grasp. Mystic makes a delighted little sound.

**“you like this, lamb?”**

“ _Y_ _es.”_ Your voice is strained. You just want - you just want her inside of you and she’s going to _kill_ you with the slow pace she’s set in place. “Mys _tic,_ touch me, please.”

 **“so demanding,”** she tsks. **“you** **_like_ ** **being touched, don’t you, ducky?”**

“Uh-huh.”

 **“good, because i like touching you.”** Mystic digs her claws into your hips, just enough to make you squeak in surprise. She smirks, tongue sliding out to lick lazily at the divots in your skin. Her saliva is cool on your exposed flesh. As if to reiterate that she likes to feel your skin, more vine-like strands of her extract themselves from her form, brushing and exploring your body. Some of them dip down between your legs, testing and tasting.

 **“you’re** **_really_ ** **enjoying this.”** Mystic almost sounds surprised.

“No sh- _it_ —!” You cut yourself off with a gasp. Mystic sinks a finger into your wet heat, exploring the silky slick between your legs. “Oh-oh god. _Fuck._ ”

Your other looks simultaneously amused and pleased as punch. She lowers her tongue to your clit and you’ll be lying later on if you ever say that the texture of it _didn’t_ make you see stars. You moan under the gentle pressure, squirming and digging your nails into your palms. The texture of Mystic’s tongue is almost _too_ rough against your sensitive skin.

She holds you down, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been wetter in your life. The sounds that she is pulling from your pussy are _obscene,_ a constant _shlrp_ ing that reminds you how much you miss getting fucked _._ A bead of sweat drips from behind your ear, rolling down the back of your neck.

 **“you want cock, brat? hmph.”** Mystic pulls away from you, leaving you cold, wet and wanting on the couch. Her mouth _glistens_ because of you. **“can you even** **_handle_ ** **it?”**

You make an offended noise, protesting the absence of friction where you need it most.

 **“answer me, brat.”** Mystic’s voice is rough, low, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I can handle cock.”

Your other seems to consider this. **“perhaps.”** Something nudges the juncture between your legs, and you are pleased beyond measure to find that Mystic has formed a phallus.

 _Holy shit._ It’s moving on its own. It reminds you of a — god, you can’t believe you’re actually thinking about _tentacles_ right now.

**consentacles.**

You burst into laughter. “Oh my god, boooo! That’s _terrible,_ doll.” But even as you say it, you roll your hips up against her, and you think that maybe, _maybe,_ you could get used to this.

Mystic’s grip on your hips tightens in response. **“brat…”**

“Yes?” Your voice is all innocence and candy-sugar, dripping like syrup.

**“you’re going to be ruined for anyone else.”**

“I doubt it, but I’m happy for you to try.”

 **“are you ready?”** She nudges against your cunt, and you tear up because she can see into your head, she _knows_ you are ready but even still she checks in with you and that’s so _nice._

“Hell yes. Please fuck me.”

Mystic _snarls_ as she sinks into you, and the sound has the hair in your arms rising in the best way.

“Fuck fuck fuck fu—” Your chant becomes a prayer as Mystic gets the hang of sliding in and out of you. “Mystic MysticMysticMystic, oh _shit_ , that feels so good, baby, please please please, _harder._ ”

**thirsty slut.**

_Yesyesyesyes I am, fuck me fuck me fuck me, oh god._

**“that’s what i’m doing, brat.”** You lift your hips to meet her thrust for thrust, shuddering at the delicious fullness she brings with her. Your head lolls back, bumping against the arm of the couch as she fucks you. It feels… god, it feels so much better than anything you’ve ever done before. Your previous partners — Mystic growls as your mind begins to wander — never have been able to get you as wet as you are right now. It has always been painful before, but now? Now you’re _begging_ for more, for anything she’ll give you.

You moan loudly when Mystic pinches a nipple between the thick part of her claws, and moan again when she gives it a little twist. A spike of pleasure shoots through your nervous system. Both you and your other shudder in tandem. Mystic’s crafted cock pulses in time with your heartbeats. A yelp leaves your mouth as you feel it _growing_ inside you, rippling against the soft walls of your cunt.

“What—? Oh, shit, that feels so _good,_ doll.” You purr praises in a tone that crackles and breaks with arousal.

Mystic looks extremely pleased with herself. **“i know. I can feel it, too.”**

Some of her biomatter stretches to cup your clit, rubbing and tugging in a wild sort of way, no particular pattern to it. Mystic’s name is a chant in your head, she fills your senses and you lose track of where you end and she begins. Liquid heat begins to build up in your belly as a curious tendril presses against the spongy tissue just past the underside of your pubic bone. “F- _fuck_ . Do that again, _please_.”

Mystic obliges you, pushing on your g-spot again, and the whine you let out makes her purr. She keeps the pressure on that spot and pinches your clit as she begins to fuck you in earnest, and you’re not very surprised at all when your orgasm hits you like a brick wall. Your vision goes white and you _wail_ as your eyes roll back in your skull _,_ fingers scrabbling for purchase on her shoulders. Mystic wraps around you, pressing her forehead to yours as you pulse and clench around her cock.

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the delicious fullness you feel as you come down from your explosive orgasm. Your breathing evens out. Mystic rumbles against your chest, her tongue flicking out to catch some stray tears that roll down your cheeks. You squirm as she sinks into your skin, settling into the bones of your rib cage once more.

She reappears as a head over your shoulder when you stand on wobbly legs and head into the bathroom to clean up. You glance at her. “I thought you were going to clean us up.”

 **“you’re doing fine on your own.”** Mystic spreads down the backs of your thighs and calves, making certain that you won’t suddenly topple over or anything. You huff and shake your head, but do not comment further. You thank your lucky stars that your bathroom isn’t very far from your living room. The tile is cold beneath your feet and the shower handles squeak as you turn on the water. It takes a few minutes to warm up, so you take a moment to look yourself over in the mirror.

You’re covered in tiny scratches. They don’t hurt, and Mystic looks unreasonably pleased with herself for marking you up so thoroughly without any actual injury. Steam curls from the shower, and you step into the steady stream of warm water. It feels like heaven on your muscles. Mystic does eventually help you clean off, rubbing you down with a clean towel once you get out of the shower.

The two of you curl up in your bed afterwards, and you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open. You yawn widely and smack your lips together in an attempt to stay awake.

“Hey, Mystic?”

**what is it, lamb?**

“You were right.”

**i’m right about a lot of things.**

**you will need to be more specific.**

“You _did_ ruin me for anyone else.”

 **i did, didn’t i? i** **_told_ ** **you that i would.**

“You’re so full of yourself.”

 **i** **_am_ ** **, aren’t i?**

“Bitch.”

**brat.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me prompts and stuff, you thirsty tater thots<3


	8. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Req'd by dragonsrule18 - Reader or ~~Mystic~~ is having a bad day and the other comforts them.

Mystic has been bonded to her human for several weeks when she first notices something… off. It wasn’t readily apparent when she’d bonded with you, but after being **_we_** instead of _me and you,_ after bonding on a cellular level and adjusting her DNA to something more than _just_ Mystic, it becomes clear that there is a disconnect somewhere in your brain. She doesn’t make mention of it until one day you wake up and it’s like you’re walking through tar.

Everything is so _slow._

You’re halfway through making a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch when Mystic finally speaks up about it.

**“what is making everything so time-consuming?”**

“What?” You’re caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, isn’t that what everything does? Consume time?”

 **“no, this is different. why do you feel so…”** Mystic stops and makes a rumbly little vibrating sound that resonates with your mood. You blink.

“Oh. I have depression. It happens sometimes. Or, a lot of the time. It’s just brain chemistry, you can’t fix it.”

**“yes i can.”**

You can feel her preparing to poke around in your actual brain, sliding up your spinal column. “Mystic, stop!”

Your other pauses, and you can feel the confusion radiating off of her. **“what? why not?”**

“Because,” you say, “it’s just how I am. I don’t want you to fix it. I’ve got it under control most of the time. Some days are just worse than others.”

Mystic is frustrated. She _knows_ that she can remove the clouds from your head and make it so that everything is clear for you. So why won’t you accept her help? **“coward.”**

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I’m a coward, amongst other things.”

The sandwich gets finished, and you take it with you to your desk. Mystic is quiet as you eat. The bread is dry.

 **“how can we make it not so difficult?”** She’s so disconcerted by the fact that you don’t want her help that Mystic slips back into _us-speak_ briefly. Your lips curve in a sardonic smile.

“There’s a good question, doll.” You sigh. “I don’t know, reminders, I guess? On days like today the executive dysfunction gets real bad, and that makes it hard for me to work at my full potential. Acting like a heavy blanket would help, I think.”

You can feel the other occupant of your body —

**_our_ body, brat.**

— rummaging through your memories. It’s a wholly unnerving experience. It doesn’t last long, though, which is nice. Warmth spreads along your back as Mystic makes an appearance, starting at the line of your spine. She’s made herself more dense, you realize, and as she continues to cover you with biomatter, you realize what she is trying to do.

”Aw, you care about me!” Sarcasm drips from your words, but your heart leaps in your chest. It’s been so long since someone actually cared enough to make sure that you are alright.

**how could we not?**

**you are a part of us.**

**we want to make you happy.**

“Oh. _Oh_.” Tears well up in your eyes. You try (and fail) to blink them away. One dribbles down your cheek as you sniff. Mystic brushes away the tear, rumbling a sort of funny little purr against your skin. It is… a surprisingly comforting sound. “Thanks? I think?”

 **we —** ** _i_** **— got you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I’d put Pulse pt2 our before this but again the smut is tripping me up, so I hope you enjoyed this!! Send me more prompts/requests, folks!


	9. Hello, Boys

**let’s get chocolate.**

_Is that necessary?_

**your small intestines are looking tasty.**

_Aw, fuck, come on._

**no,** **_you_ ** **come on.**

**get me chocolate.**

_Jesus,_ fine. _Let me find a convenience store._

The side street you veer onto is relatively quiet, compared to the hustle and bustle of the main road. It’s a nice change in pace, you muse to yourself. Neon signs light up the evening gloom, reflecting a multitude of bright colors in the puddles on the sidewalk. Someone bumps into your shoulder. You mutter an apology under your breath as Mystic snarls in your head.

_Calm down, dude. It was an accident._

**they** **_touched_ ** **you.**

_Yeah, and several hundred other people have, too. It’s not a big deal._

Mystic grumbles and falls silent. You can feel the irritation radiating in your chest. _Feels like someone needs a Snickers bar._

**i want a milky way.**

**snickers have nuts.**

_Milky Way it is, then._ You laugh softly to yourself, a small smile curving your lips, but you keep an eye out for an open grocery store. It doesn’t take you long to find one.

The bell tied to the spring mechanism dings cheerily when you push the door open. An Asian woman greets you from behind the counter, and you give her a wave and a smile in response. The aisles are spaced unevenly. Mystic takes over your senses and you can smell _everything_ , spices and milk and chocolate; even the day-old stench of… blood?

_What the hell?_

**it is safe here.**

**for now, at least.**

_Oh, that makes me feel_ real _good, Myst._

**don’t be such a baby.**

**i won’t let anything hurt you, ducky.**

_I know._

You follow your nose to the shelf full of chocolate. There’s a surprisingly broad selection available. Your mouth waters when you see a few bars of Ghirardelli. Mystic makes an impatient noise in your head as you grab them. Verbally shushing her under your breath, you dig through the candy, only to find one last Milky Way bar.

**ours!**

_Yeah, it is. Let’s go pay for it, now._

As you make your way back to the front counter, another customer comes through the street-facing door, greeting the woman behind the counter by name. A quick once-over has you stiffening — the dude’s fucking _huge._ His arms are practically the size of your _thighs._

_Holy shit, big beefy boi._

**what the hell is it with you and ‘big boi’?**

_Look, I like what I like. Don’t give me shit, bitch. You like it just as much as I do, don’t lie to me._

**yes, but i’m not a total weirdo about it.**

_Hey, fuck you. See if I give you your chocolate now._

Mystic grumbles in your head and pinches your ass underneath your clothes. You let out a short yelp, drawing the attention of both the man and the cashier.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah, I’m fine.” Mortification colors your cheeks, and you nod stiffly in the man’s direction.

 _Stop_ doing _that in public! It’s embarrassing!_

 **_i_ ** **thought you liked the danger of getting caught.**

 _Yeah, when I_ know _I’m not gonna get fuckin’ caught!_

**… then what’s the fun?**

_Are you - are you a sadist or some shit?_

**no, but** **_you’re_ ** **a glutton for punishment.**

_Just shout it to the whole world, why don't ya?_

Smiling awkwardly at the man, you edge around him. Your bare shoulder brushes his — _very warm_ — jacket sleeve. You feel the touch of something _other_ against your brain. Mystic hisses in your head, alarmed.

 **he’s one of** **_them._ **

The blood drains from your face. _One of_ **_who_ ** _?_

**symbiote. klyntar. bonded.**

_What?! I thought we were the only ones?_

**as did i. we were both wrong, apparently.**

_What do I do?_

**finish the transaction, then get out.**

_Aye-aye, Captain._

Your hands shake as you dig through your wallet, sweat beading on your forehead. You feel nauseous. Mystic is tense, rippling just under your skin. You don’t want to fight anyone. Your other half, however, is absolutely ready to come out of the metaphorical woodwork if the other symbiote makes an appearance. You can see the man watching you out of the corner of your eye, and you fumble your wallet, spilling quarters and dimes all over the floor. “Ah, shit. Sorry.”

“Take your time.” The cashier is either really oblivious or just really skilled at pretending inter-customer tension doesn’t exist. _Thank God for retail workers._

You crouch down, scrabbling for the fallen coins, turning your back to the man. Mystic bristles at this, but you also feel the pride rolling off of her. She thinks it’s brave.

 **and stupid. so,** **_so_ ** **stupid.**

_We’ve already established that I’m a complete dumbass, doll._

Mystic appears from your chest in the form of a gelatinous tendril. She scoops up the coins with ease, depositing them into your waiting hands. You dump them back into your wallet, tugging a twenty from it to stuff into the repurposed jam jar that has a handwritten _Tips_ label slapped on it. You slap a tenner on the counter beside it, stuffing the chocolate into your sweatshirt pocket as you mumble something along the lines of ‘keep the change’. The woman is looking at you like you’ve grown a second head now, and you have to consciously stop yourself from looking over your shoulder to check if Mystic has actually made an appearance behind you.

She has not. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you know that you won’t feel truly safe until you’re out of the store and away from the _giant fucking dude that’s bonded to a symbiote._ You feel like a rabbit in an open field in hunting season. It would make you laugh if it weren’t so goddamn accurate.

**be casual. slow.**

_Slow. Slow slow slowslowslow —_

Your heart rate picks up as you plaster a half-smile on your face and thank the woman with stilted words. You think you might faint.

**won’t let you fall, dove.**

_Appreciate it._

If you weren’t reinforced by Mystic sliding down your body, your knees would be knocking like a hammer and nails. You’ve never really been this _afraid_ before, and god, you hope you never will be again. The adrenaline is like caffeine; it’s giving you a headache. The wind’s picked up while you were in the store. You stumble as a particularly powerful blast knocks you sideways. _This fucking blows._

“So, how’d you know it _—_ he _—_ was bonded?”

**there’s a distinct mental signature that comes with a bond.**

**it is like when you log onto a website and check the little box that asks if you want it to remember your password. your computer gets a specific signature that allows it to keep going back.**

“Oh. Huh. But _how_ does it work?” Mystic tightens around your ribcage in irritation.

**i don’t know.**

“Damn. Let’s just _—_ ”

“He-ey, baby! Who you talkin’ to?” You stiffen but don’t stop walking. “Hey, bitch, I’m talkin’ to ya!”

You clench your jaw and turn to face the man. Mystic growls deep in your chest, coming to the surface of your skin beneath your clothes. She’s raring for a fight; you’ve never been in one with her. “You kiss your mama with that mouth? Fuck _off,_ dude.”

He’s taller than you and looks like he’s been three days in the bottom of a bottle. There’s around four other guys standing in a cluster behind him. You’re more than ready to run. “Baby?”

**yes?**

“Let’s skedaddle.”

**aye aye, captain.**

Mystic flows fully over your legs, coming into view over you pants. As you turn to run, the man darts forward faster than should be possible (or, maybe, you’ve just been spending too much time away from regular humans).

**no such thing.**

_Well, clearly it_ **is** _a thing. I don’t know what to fuckin’ expect from people any longer. You’ve spoiled me._

**good.**

_I hate to break it to you, but that’s_ not _a good thing, doll._

He latches onto your arm like a leech, pulling you into a side alley before you can react. His buddies follow, jeering. You’re glad that Mystic is with you — if she weren’t, the anxiety that’s built up over the course of the day would’ve surely killed you by this point.

_We’re never leaving the house again. Fuck this bullshit._

**agreed.**

**we just need us.**

**no one else.**

“A little help, please?!” Your shriek echoes off of the walls of the alley, and the man clasps a hand over your mouth. His skin tastes like sweat and gasoline. _Maybe he’s a mechanic?_

“Shut _up!”_

**bad idea, bitch.**

Mystic comes to the fore, everywhere. You go slack as she wraps around you, relaxing into her like a lover. She flows over your eyes, blacking out your vision before you’re looking through _her_ eyes. Everything is so much _more,_ and you wonder how Mystic can stand it. The man looks like he regrets every choice that he’s made today; you can see the blood draining from his cheeks and the sweat forming on his hairline. He smells like fear. He smells _delicious._

_What’s one less would-be rapist, hmm?_

**“exactly.”** Mystic opens your mouth wide, wider than you’ve ever seen before. It’s reminiscent of that one scene in _Beetlejuice,_ when the Maitlands are trying to scare the Deetzes out of the house… except Mystic takes the guy’s head off with a low _crunch_ of bones. Blood and spinal fluid fills your mouth, and while it makes you gag, it tastes like _energy._

_Is this why you guys prefer eating people?_

Mystic doesn’t pause in her rampage, tossing the headless corpse to the side as she lunges for the closest men. **“yes.”**

They yell and burble and piss themselves when she gets your hands on them, ripping heads off with tongue and teeth and claws. The others start to run; Mystic roars — a sound that bounces off of the alley walls and echoes into the street — and catches them by their ankles, dragging them back into the shadows as they scream. _Someone’s bound to have heard that._

As if summoned, a huge black mass falls to the ground behind you. _Oh, shit._

Mystic hisses at the newcomer, bared teeth bloody and red. It – they? – are _enormous._ They tower over you and Mystic, shoulders twice the width of your body and just as thick. **“go away, we were here first.”**

**“Who are you?”**

**“none of your business,”** Mystic snarls.

 **“This is our city; that makes it our business.”** The other symbiote peels back partially, revealing — _oh._

It’s the guy from the convenience store.

_Let me out. I wanna talk to him._

**“no, it’s not safe.”**

**“Are you speaking to your other?”**

**“like i said, it’s none of your business.”**

**“It** **_is_ ** **our business. Stop acting like a child.”**

 **“fuck** **_off._ ** **”**

_Myst, maybe we should—_

Before you can finish the sentence, the other symbiote shoots black webbing at you and the force of it causes you to stumble backwards. It’s surprisingly sticky, and even Mystic’s struggling cannot free you from it. _What the hell? Mystic, let me talk to them._

Your other rumbles in warning when the black symbiote approaches you.

**“If it makes you feel any better, we promise not to harm your other… yet. We just wish to talk.”**

_Doll, come on. They could easily kill us. Cooperate with them, and then we can run._

**“... fine.”** Mystic recedes part way, revealing half of your face. The other symbiote doesn’t look particularly surprised, but its host does. His expression is almost comical, with raised eyebrows and mouth open.

 **“Eddie, I told you, Eddie.”** The black symbiote sounds smug. The man — Eddie? — rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Vee.”

He looks back to you, starting to frown again. “Why’d you, uh, eat those guys?”

 **“they were going to** **_try_ ** **to hurt us,”** Mystic says before you can speak. **“we also haven’t had anything but potatoes for the last month. we wanted some variety in our diet.”**

“Ri-ight. What’s your name?”

_Let me talk, damn it._

**… fine.**

You tell him your name, and he introduces himself as Eddie Brock. “I’d, uh, I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up, at the moment.”

He snorts. You count it as a point in your favor. Mystic blinks in a way that conveys her ‘I’m-so-done-with-this-shit’ feelings.

“So what exactly brought you to this, uh, _lovely_ part of the city?”

“This one,” you jerk your head at Mystic, “wanted chocolate.”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in this alley?”

“Ah. I didn’t fancy becoming another statistic, that’s all.” You stare at Eddie, unblinking. He looks away from you. “Will you let me down now? I have kids at home.”

“Wha—? Oh, you’re joking. Why should I — _we_ — let you go?”

“Um, maybe because I — _we,_ sorry — never actually killed anyone innocent? Plus, you’ve told us _your_ name; what’s stopping me from telling the police about you and yours if you decide to rat on us to the cops?”

**“Eddie, Eddie, she has a point.”**

“Quiet, Vee.”

“What’s his name?”

Eddie looks confused for a moment, furrowing his brows as he glances at you. “Who? Oh! This is Venom.”

 **“so** **_you’re_ ** **venom,”** Mystic drawls. **“they talked about you back home, you know.”**

**“And you are?”**

**“mystic. you probably haven’t heard of me.”**

**“No, I have. You are Crusher’s spawnmate.”**

“The _fuck_ is a spawnmate?”

**“a spawnmate is like a sibling, i guess.”**

“Oh.” Your tone turns vaguely accusing. “You never told me you have a sibling!”

**“that’s because it isn’t important!”**

“It’s about _you,_ of _course_ it’s important!” Mystic’s expression goes slack, like she can’t believe that you actually care about little details like that.

“Alright, um, look,” Eddie’s looking between you and Mystic like he thinks the two of you might start attacking each other. You won’t, but he doesn’t know that. “You two — you two can’t just fuckin’ eat people out of the blue.”

 **“Wh** at a **re y** ou, o **ur da** d?” Your voice warps and blends with Mystic’s as you turn to face Eddie as one. He holds up his hands and takes a single step back. Venom looks vaguely unimpressed.

“Whoa, whoa, there. Look, I’m pretty sure that you’re a decent person,” you nod emphatically, “so here’s what I’m — _we’re_ — going to do: Vee and I will let you out of the web, and you two are not going to eat innocent people, yeah?”

“Dude, what the fuck? We didn’t eat anyone innocent. They attacked us, first.”

“You — what? Oh. _Oh._ Shit, I’m sorry. Let me, um, let me get you down.”

_How did that not click for him?_

**maybe he is a dumbass?**

_Probably._

Eddie-Venom reaches over and pulls the webbing off of you, allowing you so stretch your arms above your head. You back cracks, and Eddie winces. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for, uh, jumping to conclusions.”

“‘The only thing you do when you make assumptions is make an ass out of yourself’,” you tell him, nodding sagely. Eddie snorts. You turn to leave.

“Right. I’ll have to remember that.” He pauses, looking at the headless bodies. “Uh. Before you go, are you going to finish these, or should Venom and I…?”

**eat them eat them eat them!**

“Um. Well. My, uh, hm.”

 **“** ** _yes,_ ** **we will clean up our mess,”** Mystic says, slipping over you like oil. It’s always a strange feeling, becoming less _you_ and more _us._ You look down at Eddie with six blinking eyes.

 **“go away now,”** you say, neither requesting or demanding. The man rolls his eyes and nods.

“See you around, kid.”

 _Excuse_ you, _bitch, I’m just as much an adult as you are._

**“less whining, more eating.”**


End file.
